


Braids of Roses and Cloves

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Castle Fluff, F/M, Hair, Pre-Relationship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10018550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: The scent of roses and cloves wove through her chestnut locks.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/gifts).



> leni-ba said:  
> Prompt: hair care in the Dark Castle

Rumple was aware of time when he was making a potion; many needed close attention and the precise addition of ingredients, but he did tend to get wrapped up in the process and lose track of the actual hour of the day. So he wasn’t too surprised when he pushed the cork in the bottle and stretched to find that night had fallen. At this hour Belle was probably in bed already, oh well he was perfectly capable of making himself a cup of tea. Ambling into the kitchen he wasn’t aware of the seated figure by the fireplace until he already had the kettle in his hand.

“Oh I’d love a cuppa if you’re making one, Rumple.”

He swivelled on the ball of his foot, about to question who the maid in this castle was, but the comment died on his lips when he saw Belle’s hair streaming loose over her shoulders. Her hair was normally partly tied back out of her face; he’d never seen it like this before. It really was rather beautiful in the firelight.

“Rumple?”

He dragged his eyes away and fumbled with the kettle, a wee bit embarrassed for having stared so foolishly, it was only hair after all.

“Tea, yes of course.”

As the kettle boiled his eyes were drawn back to Belle’s hair. She’d clearly washed it, the ends were curling more than usual as they dried. He wondered what she’d cleansed it with, there was a sheen to the locks that made his fingers twitch with the desire to touch. By the time the tea was brewing in the pot Belle had gathered a stoneware jar and a boar bristle brush into her lap. The scent of rose and cloves hit him as she removed the lid, so this was how she left that delightful fragrance in her wake as she dusted and cleaned. He watched with interest as she applied the ground petals and spice to her scalp.

“You’ve missed a bit.”

“Oh where?”

He tried to point it out to her, but her fingers kept skating by the back of her crown.

“May I?”

She gave him a little smile and held the jar up for him to take a pinch of powder from. Dear gods it smelt heavenly, like pure concentrated Belle. He focused on the task at hand and sprinkled the powder into her hair. He was about to step back when Belle offered him the brush.

“Would you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

He might have answered to quickly, but he took the brush from her hand gently and stood for a moment trying to work out how best to go about this. Belle solved that dilemma for him by slipping off the low stool she was seated on to the floor; once he sat down she shuffled back so she was sat between his legs. Very slowly he separated a lock of hair and began brushing the powder from root to tip. He smiled to himself as she hummed happily. He worked his way through the rest of her hair with gentle diligence, by the time he was done her gleaming, fragrant chestnut locks were spread over his thighs. 

A peaceful silence had fallen over them and he was loath to break it, or to give up this freedom to touch just yet, so he gathered her hair into his hands and began to work it into a braid. It was more complicated than the simple three strand braid he had observed she wore for sleep, but it let him weave the locks between his fingers for that little bit longer. Still all too soon his work was done, he tied the end with a piece of blue satin ribbon he conjure and sat back to admire his handiwork.

Belle didn’t appear to be in any hurry to move from her spot by the fire, so he handed her a cup of tea and stayed where he was to drink his own, his fingers absentmindedly curling around the end of her braid.


End file.
